


Unsteady

by firstwiththeheadthenwiththeheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12774564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstwiththeheadthenwiththeheart/pseuds/firstwiththeheadthenwiththeheart
Summary: Olive Connors has had a pretty normal life for being a wizard and the daughter of teenage parents. Her mother works at a Muggle's cafe, and her dad is part of a relatively well-know wizarding band, and while not together, they have been getting along quite well. She has finally found a somewhat stable boy, Cedric, while trying to be friendly (and not flustered) around her  best friend, Fred, and she's going back to Hogwarts.It isn't until her parents drop a huge, life changing bomb on her that she realizes, her life is not completely normal. In fact, it's anything but.





	1. Snogging, Lemon Bars, and Curse Words

The alleyway smelled of garbage, but she was trying not to let that get to her. She pressed kisses against Cedric’s throat breathing in his scent—strangely, he smelled like lemons and sugar. She scraped her teeth softly against his skin.

“Olive, come on,” Cedric said. She felt his Adam’s apple bounce off her lips as he swallowed nervously. “Knock it off.”

There was a pause as her fingers brushed the tops of his boxers underneath his shirt.

“Seriously,” he twisted his neck away from her mouth. “What if someone sees us?”

“Did you make lemonade, or something, with your mum this morning?” she asked, running her tongue over her bottom lip, before biting it.

Cedric swallowed again, and looked away from her mouth. His hand running through his hair, which had grown out over the summer and was starting to curl at the ends. 

Olive grabbed his jacket by the bottom and pulled him toward her again.

“What sort of question is that?” he said with a slight smile and shake of the head.

“You taste like lemons and sugar,” she said, backing up against the library wall. The brick dug into her back, but she didn’t mind. There was barely a time that summer that she had actually been somewhat alone with Cedric. His mum didn’t want him going to her house, because as she rather impolitely put it—Olive’s own mum had had her at sixteen, so she didn’t trust her judgement on teenagers. Also, his mum had a very strict no-closed-doors policy, meaning they hadn’t really properly snogged. Until today.

“We made lemon bars for my grandmum,” he admitted, his cheeks coloring just a bit. “And her book club.”

To keep from laughing, Olive bit her lip again, and then smiled up at him.

“You are such a mummy’s boy,” she brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes.

Cedric hung his head back and groaned.

“I am not.”

Olive reached her hands to the back of his head, and pulled it back down toward her.

“Then why are you more worried about people seeing two teenagers snogging in a dirty alleyway than you are about actually having a good long snog with me?” she asked, and he searched her eyes for a moment, before pressing his mouth back against hers—obviously trying to disapprove her mummy’s boy accusation.

His hands moved to her hips, and his thumb rode her shirt up, until it was pressing on the skin of her hipbone, feeling the very edge of her underwear. He deepened the kiss and then, he confidently moved one hand under her shirt, sliding over her ribs, toward her bra—his whole body pressing her into the wall.

“Olive?”

It was said in a normal tone, but the voice seemed to reverberate off the alley walls and echo in her head. 

Olive? Olive? Olive?

Cedric had pushed himself away from her; his hand in his hair, his head hung sheepishly, and his face burning red.

It wasn’t her name that jarred her, but the voice that said it.

“Olive?” it said again. “Is that you?”

Olive closed her eyes tight. Maybe if she said nothing, he would go away. Maybe if she didn’t actually open her eyes to see him, he would cease to exist.

“Olive,” he was so close now; an arm's length away.

She pressed her head back against the bricks, before lolling it toward the voice, putting on a smile as she opened her eyes.

Relief flooded her, so quickly her knees shook slightly and she almost sank to the ground.

It was George.

Only George.

“Georgie,” she said, though it came out in a hushed, surprised tone.

Olive threw her arms around him, pulling him into her for a hug, which he returned—picking her up, and spinning her around, before placing her back where she had been standing.

“You look,” she glanced him up and down. He had gained an inch in height, she was sure of it, even though it had only been a month. Freckles coated his face, and his cheeks were tinged a bit of sunburn. And she could see the outline of white skin around his hairline, meaning that it was a fairly new haircut. “Fantastic. How was Egypt? Bill? And Charlie? It must have been loads of fun! You’ve got to tell me all about it,” she glanced back at Cedric, who was looking a bit uncomfortable. “Oh! You know Cedric,” she reached out and found Cedric's hand, pulling him toward her, “Cedric Diggory.”

“Yeah,” George said slowly, shaking hands with Cedric. “Yeah, we’ve got a few classes together,” he glanced back at Olive, “as you know.”

“George, right?” Cedric said, still looking completely embarrassed.

“The one and only,” he said, and his eyebrow quirked up.

Cedric opened his mouth to respond, his eyebrows drawing together, before he quickly looked at Olive for help.

“What are you doing here? At the library of all places,” Olive said, ignoring the awkward tension that seemed to surround them. 

The best friend meeting the boyfriend that he didn't know about was surely always going to be an awkward situation. But Olive hadn't prepared for this yet. She thought she had time, before the awkward introductions and weird silences and judgy, secret friend looks. And by time, she thought that she had had at least one more day.

“We—” George started, before she cut him off.

“We?”

“Yeah,” George said, his smile had completely fallen now, and he had turned his narrowed eyed look toward her, before yelling back over his shoulder, “Fred!”

Olive closed her eyes for a moment to gain as much composure as she could. Of course, he was with Fred. When had he ever been without Fred?

“We were actually just running to your house real quick when I spotted you—er... the whole family is going to stay in Diagon Alley tonight, and mum said we only had two hours before we were leaving, so we figured—”

“That we’d stop by to see you,” Fred said as he stopped next to George, his head cocked to the side a little. His lips were split into a smirk. “As a surprise,” he turned toward Cedric, “Nice to see you Cedric, it is Cedric, isn’t?”

Fred clasped hands with Cedric in a firm handshake, before looking back at Olive. His eyes weren’t dancing like usual, but had a rather hard look about them. 

Olive felt a little sick.

“Yeah,” Cedric nodded, uneasiness creepy into his voice. “Diggory.”

“Fantastic,” Fred said dryly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.

“Oh,” Olive said, yanking Cedric’s arm up toward her face, and looking at his watch. “Would you look at the time! I’ve got to get home! Great seeing you two, really. I’m sure I’ll see you at school, if not before then? Right? Great.”

She started to pull Cedric out of the alley by his wrist.

“Why don’t we walk with you? Tell you all about Egypt?” George called after them, sounding put out.

“Yeah, and then you can tell us all about what you…got up to this summer,” Fred added flippantly as he and his brother trailed after them to the mouth of the alley.

“No, that’s alright,” Olive said, turning back to face them, walking backwards as quickly as she could manage. “Mum and dad said they’ve got something really important to talk to me about, and I’m already pretty of late for that, and Cedric’s house is a little ways past mine, while your guys’ is in the total opposite direction."

"You didn’t seem to rushed to get going a minute ago," Fred deadpanned, motioning backward where they had been standing—his smile wasn't one of amusement.

"Yeah, well, I hadn't realized that time! See you!" Olive yelled, her voice strangely high pitched as she yanked Cedric with her rounding the corner of the library, and basically jogging away from the twins.

“Why was that weird? That seemed weird," Cedric said, peering at her.

“It wasn’t weird—they're just like that, and I'm late," she said with a shrug.

“Merlin’s beard," Cedric said, checking his watch. "You are late. Shit.”

Olive stopped suddenly, causing Cedric to be yanked back with her.

“Did you just curse?” she said, smiling broadly.

“What? I curse," he said, his eyebrows coming together as though he were trying to look tough.

“I’ve never heard you curse before," she said, letting go of his hand, and pulling him closer by his sweater again.

“That’s because we always met up in a library," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, suppressing a smile. "They’ve got a strict no cursing rule”

“Well, no one informed me of that rule,” Olive said as Cedric's hands found their way back to her hips. His head tilted forward toward her.

“I know," he said, his mouth only a few inches away from her own. "They asked me if I could, which is why I came over to talk to you in the first place, but I found you endearing, so I never asked you to stop.”

“Endearing?” she said, laughing a little.

“Fuckin’ endearing,” he whispered, before pressing his lips against hers. They kissed for a good minute, before Olive pulled away and pulled his wrist up, so she could look at his watch again.

“I’m so fucking late.”


	2. Fathers, Mothers, and Sirius Black

“You, young lady, are in big trouble!” Olive’s father said as soon as she slipped in the door of the house.

He was sitting at the small dining table with his biker boots up on it and his hands intertwined behind his head, while tipping perilously back in his chair. 

“Am I?” Olive asked, giving him a mocking smile as hung up her coat. “Well, there certainly is a first time for everything.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know, I put you in timeout once, because you bite me ear,” he said, pointing at his ear and tipping his head down, so his sunglasses tipped a bit down his nose.

“Yes, and how long did that last?” she asked, leaning against the door and folding her arms over her chest, not bothering to suppress her smile.

“About one whole minute; you always looked so sad when you cried. Broke me heart. So, who’s the boy?” he asked, swinging his feet off the table at the sound of her mum coming down the stairs. The chair legs that had been suspended slammed to the ground with a loud thud as her dad pulled back a curtain and watched Cedric retreat from the house. “See that you vampired his neck real good there.”

Her dad made fang motions with his fingers in front of his mouth, complete hissing sounds that he seemed to think sounded like vampire noises.

Before she could stop herself, Olive instinctively looked out the window on the front door—her eyes searching for Cedric, and the apparently large, incriminating mark.

“Ah ha!” her dad yelled, causing her to start. “You we’re suckin’ on his neck!”

“Kieran, for God’s sake, shut up,” her mum said, rolling her eyes as she entered the room already holding a cup of tea. She made her way to the kitchen, craning her neck to try to see Cedric as well just as he started to become a little dot in the distance.

“I was only kiddin’ love,” he dad said as Olive sat down at the table next to him, her face tinged pink. “Seems like whoever’s been suckin’ on your mum, sucked all the humour right outta her.”

“Kieran, I swear to God,” her mum snapped, whipping back toward them as Olive pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Oh come on, Hads, you’re just provin’ me point,” he said, gesturing jadedly at her.

Olive couldn’t deny the truth in her father’s words—ever since they had separated her mother laughed a lot less, but also screamed and cried a lot less. Her mum had told her once that being with her dad was like a rollercoaster, and over the years the feeling of highs weren’t enough to make up for all the plummets. They still got on though, well, mostly.

“Alright, what are we doing here?” Olive said, clapping her hands together and rubbing them, trying to cut some of the tension from the room. “What’s this little family meeting all about?”

Her parents exchanged glances—her mum biting her lip, and her dad scratching the back of his neck. The feel of the room had swung wildly in the direction of uncomfortable.

“Well,” Kieran said, tilting his head toward Olive, but looking at her mum. “Go on. You’re the one that insisted we tell her.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” her mum snapped, crossing the small kitchen and taking a seat at the table, glaring at her dad. “She needs to know. We should have told her ages ago.”

Olive gave them both bewildered looks.

“What? What’s going on?” Olive asked, her eyes darting.

Her dad took a deep breath and said, “Well, love, you aren’t me kid. Well, not biologically.” He rubbed his hands on his face, pulling the skin taunt, while also wincing, waiting for her reaction.

“Oh,” Olive said, relief flooding her. “That? I thought one of you was, like, dying or something.”

“Oh that?” her dad yelled. “What the bloody hell do you mean, oh that?”

“Well,” Olive said, again looking between them—both of which looked very confused. “I’ve know you weren’t my biological dad for a while, like, years.”

“What?” her parents said at the same time. Her dad was blinking furiously at her with his mouth agape and her mum looked a bit like she was constipated, or something.

“I mean… I don’t particularly look like either of you,” Olive said slowly as her parents looked at each other really quick, and then back at her—as though assessing her appearance in correlation to them.

“What?! That’s lunacy!” her dad said, now slapping both his palms down onto the table and staring at her in disbelief. “You’ve got me hair! And me eyes!”

“First of all,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “You just said that you weren’t my biological father, so I have your nothing—”

“Not true,” he said, leaning back into his chair again and crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his chest. “You’ve got me wry sense of humour and me wit.”

“Ha!” her mum laughed, almost spitting out a mouthful of tea. “Right, because you’re so witty.”

“I’ll have you know—” dad started.

“Second of all, I did a blood typing test in, like, the fourth grade and none of us are the same blood type, meaning that one of you was most definitely not my parent, so I just always figured that mum cheated on you, or that you two broke up briefly, or something,” Olive shrugged.

“Blood typing test? What sort of bloody school did you send her to?” her dad asked, frowning over at her mum.

“It was the closest school in the area, don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it,” her mum said, glaring at him.

“Why is she cheating on me?” he asked Olive, ignoring her mum’s answer to his previous question as he wagged finger between him and her mum. “Why am I not the cheater in your conception scenario? Do you think she could have done better than me at the time? Because let me tell you about this nasty little retainer she had, and about how she went days without brushing her hair. Days. And you have me eyes!”

“I don’t know,” Olive said, shrugging again. “I thought it would be more likely that a woman would keep her baby, rather than the man. Sorry for being a bit sexist.”

“Olive, sweetie,” her mum said, reaching her hands out toward her as her dad mumbled something about it not sounding like a very sincere apology. Olive placed her hands in her mum’s. “It’s not just that you’re dad isn’t your dad—”

“Oiy!” her dad snapped. “Biological dad, thank you.”

Her mum rolled her eyes, and the smiled at her again.

“It’s not just that your father is not your biologically father, but I’m not your biologically mother either,” she said, biting her lip as she waited for Olive’s response.

“Wait…” Olive said, drawing her hands back instinctively, her eyes again darting between them. “Neither of you are my parents?”

“Biological parents,” her dad corrected.

“So, I’m adopted?” Olive said, and her parents gave each other sort of weird looks without saying anything. “Am I a milk carton baby?” Olive asked seriously, her eyes growing wide. “Did the two of you steal me, or something?”

“What?” her mum said, her hands still outstretched toward her. “No! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Olive said, her voice raising. “Ridiculous is how two teenagers somehow got a baby and raised it! You said you had me when you were only sixteen! How else does a sixteen year old get a baby besides birth or theft?”

“Well, I never actually said that,” her mum said slowly.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I never said that I had you at sixteen.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, you asked, ‘So you would have been about sixteen when you had me?’ and I said, ‘Mmm-hmm’, because if I had had you, I would’ve been sixteen.”

“Clever,” her dad said, tapping his temple and then pointing at her mum. “Very clever.”

“Not the point, mum! Who are my parents? Who am I? And why would they leave me with a couple of teenagers?” Olive’s mind whirled with possibilities—they could have actually snatched her. Or found her. Or…she had absolutely no idea.

“Well, you’re parents are dead, so best not get into that,” her dad said, and Olive stared at him bug-eyed.

“Kieran!” her mum basically screamed, before dropping her head into her hands and shaking her head.

“What?” her dad said, his eyebrows raised high. “They’re dead. No need for trivial things like names and professions and such.”

“Hold on,” Olive said, planting her palms firmly on the dining table and standing up. She have found over the years that looming really unnerved both of them, so she generally use it to her advantage. They both looked at her warily. “I need to process.”

Both suddenly looked relieved.

Her father even smiled.

“Processin’!” he said, smiling and thumping the table. “Processin’s good!”

“Alright, where’s Nan,” Olive said, craning her neck back toward the living room. “She’ll tell me what the hell is really going on.”

“Nan’s not home,” her mum said, her head still in her hands. “We thought it best if we told you alone, you know, because…” she gestured vaguely with one hand, not looking up and not actually giving a reason.

“Why are you even telling me this?” Olive muttered, sinking back down into her chair. She brought her legs up with her, and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees, and rocking a bit.

“Well,” her father said, staring at the top of her mother’s head. “Turns out, we’ve got a wee bit of a problem.”

“What my real parent’s family realized you stole me, and are now asking for me back?”

Her dad didn’t answer, but instead threw down a copy of the morning Daily Prophet, where a crazed man was staring at up at her from the cover. That crazed man was Sirius Black.

“Bloody Hell,” she said, looking up at them—her mum had finally peeked back up at them. “My dad’s a murderer? What are the statistics of murderer’s children turning out normal? Is it hereditary? Was I born with bloodthirst?”

“Most likely,” her father said nodding seriously, before her mum picked up and hit him with the newspaper that he had thrown down.

“Olive, calm down—”

“Calm down? Calm down?! This means I’m related to Briar Black! The bane of my existence, which both of you, by the way, have known for a very long time, and that’s very bad karma. Also, that stupid, rat of a boy Malfoy! You know him? That pale, slimy kid, who bought his way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team? Yeah, he’s probably, like, my cousin or something. Merlin’s beard…was I supposed to be a Slytherin? Can they make you switch houses? Why would Sirius Black give his demon offspring to the two of you? Dad were you friends with him? Were you a follower of You-Know-Who? Is that why you have so many tattoos? Did you cover up your dark mark?”

“Oiy! Shut your trap,” her father said, before lowering his voice. “She got that rambling nonsense thing from you, ya know.”

“Olive, your father—” her mum held up her hand as her father started to interrupt, “your biological father isn’t Sirius Black—he was… well, your mum was my cousin, and the night… I mean, Nan and I were watching you, because we had taken you trick-or-treating, and then you wanted to stay and your parents were like ‘No, she should come home’, but Nan was like, ‘It’s fine—I’ve taken care of babies before, look at this one’ meaning me, and—”

“Voldemort killed your parents,” her father said as-matter-of-factly. “See what I mean about the ranting thing?”

“Kieran, oh my god.”

“You just got to rip the Band-Aid, love,” he said, shaking his head. “You always rant and ramble, and slowly pry the fucker up. It pulls up each one of your hairs, and it hurts. Just fuckin’ rip it.”

“She was my cousin!”

“We’re not talking about you right now, we’re talkin’ about our daughter—remember her? Olive?”

“Oh, Olive,” her mum took her hand in hers. “I’m so sorry.”

She stared at both of them.

“So, what does this all have to do with Sirius Black?”

“Well…”


End file.
